I Am A Liar

I lie about happiness, I lie about people and how they are. I lie about reality. I lie because I dont know whats real anymore. So everything is a lie by default. Truth is I feel like people can see through me, they can see into my eyes and they suspect. They suspect me lying. Covering up. Because all I want to do is cry. I dont want to smile, or "be happy to be here". I dont want to be here before, during or after these events. I don't actually want to exist. I don't want what's not good for me, but I also don't want the pain. Both are pain. I try to tell myself suffering is inside. So is happiness. Sometimes I feel that both are equally illusions. Realism is just the slow walk toward death from the moment of birth. I try to bring people up but I have NO ONE. I have myself. Thats enough. For me. For no one else. For everyone else I am a wall, invisible, a hand, an extension, a life vest, a reason to quit, a reason to try, an option, a "yes", the answer, a goal, a challenge, a burden, a distraction from themselves. Who am I to them. Who am I to myself. Maybe Im a parasite. Maybe Im the narcissist. Maybe Im insane. I dont think it even matters. Who cares. Does anyone care? Why bother? I wish I could go back to the past or the future or right now or never or someday. I wish I could collect the bits of myself I let fall like droplets and spilled like breadcrumbs picked up by birds. Gone now. Over dramatic. Psychotic. Illogical. Invisible. Invisible. Invisible. Invisible. Im here! I want to yell. I stopped doing that when I was 5. Do you want to hear the story? I want to ask, knowing the secret answer. It didnt matter. I dont matter. Years of evidence in the silence. Im a liar. I see suspicion in their eyes. They think Im a liar, and I am, but they have it wrong. Years of silence make me insane. Years and then decades. Erase. Delete. Blown in the wind and forgotten. Clean slate for the same spills. Same words. Im sorry.
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safetynetxo
Yeah, I love the paintings they make. Blown away in the wind. If you ever can, watch the movie/documentary Samsara. It's pretty much no dialogue but it's pretty wonderful.

Thanks for caring, I guess "liking" a post is sort of like caring. I mean you read it, so you're on par with the people closest to me. I delete posts and especially the last couple because I hurt someone deeply when they read it unknown to me. And then the relationship ended, the director yelled cut, and I continued on.
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safetynetxo
Time to go find a tree. Existential questions are always best considered when there's a tree around. Sometimes they help you to figure out what you need to know.

Consider yourself from the view point of the tree. A lot of the things that you agonise over don't matter. The tree doesn't care what other people think, it just does what it needs. The tree doesn't fret about what it is, or will be, it's a tree and is OK with being a tree.

The minutes, hours, days, years you fret over, aren't even something it notices, and it doesn't need to. All there is, is now. Like the monks who make a mandala, and sweep it away, the tree does its own thing and allows everything that passes to be impermanent, because nothing matters but being exactly what it is.

You could learn a lot of stuff from a tree. (Far more than Henry King ever learned from the flowers, that's for s**t sure!)
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Cynic
You don't have to apologize. I care. I would "like" your post, but I don't want you to delete it again. ;)
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EverydayNormalGuy